Studies in Love and Culinary Arts
by sarkata
Summary: It's the beginning of their third year at Greendale Community College, and in choosing what classes to take, Neil considers telling Vicki how he feels about her. A ridiculously short ficlet in which I release all of my Neil x Vicki feelings.


_**Disclaimer:** Quite obviously, I own nothing. Just an idea and a weird fixation on background events/characters._

_**Author's Note: **This is my first dabbling in the fanfiction universe and it's terrifying here. There is just not enough Neil x Vicki work around, and that saddens me, so I wrote a tiny little ficlet. Please feel free to set me on fire if it's awful. It's also probably inconsistent with the show in a spectacular fashion._

_The cheesiness is almost entirely intentional. What can I say? It's fluff, and it's fun to write._

**Studies in Love and Culinary Arts**

"Beginning for Beginners? Are we supposed to believe that's a class?" he said, eyes drifting down the list of available courses.

Vicki looked up and smiled over at him - "Sure it is. Right next to 'Beginning for Intermediates' and 'Advanced Studies of Beginning'" Neil returned a grin, hoping desperately that his sudden racing heart and involuntary stomach butterflies weren't obvious to a bystander.

When people said that Greendale was becoming more and more cartoonish, they weren't wrong. Now entering his third year of study at the community college, Neil had finally settled in to a rhythm. It hadn't been easy - the last year had been particularly hard, but somewhere between that infamous game of Dungeons and Dragons and the drama of the final paintball match, he had found his place. His whole life, he'd been surrounded by people who judged him on sight and never bothered to get to know him, but finally he'd fallen in with people who knew what it was like to feel like an outsider, and that gave him a reason to get out of bed in the mornings. After the lowest of lows, Neil knew this year was going to be the best on yet. It had to be.

And then there was her. It wasn't that old "love at first sight" cliché, but it was pretty close. When Vicki had stood up as a candidate for campus president, he'd taken one look at that girl - yellow shirt, hat - and been fascinated. Maybe it was the way she smiled, or the hidden feistiness she clearly possessed (the way she'd sought her revenge on Pierce Hawthorne had practically reached urban legend status around campus). More likely, though, it was the hurt that he saw in her. There was a vulnerability there, beneath that resilience, the kind Neil knew all too well. From that point forth, there had been no turning back.

Now, if only he could tell _her_ that.

His track record with girls was not something to be proud of - in high school, they'd made a game of calling him names, waiting to see who'd push him to tears first. Any confidence he'd had in the past had been sapped out of him as they had relentlessly teased, and now he was hopeless. But Vicki gave him all the signs – she laughed at his jokes, she always sought out his eye in a crowd, she went with him to comic book conventions and didn't seem embarrassed by him in public…and then there was that thing that happened during paintball. The thing they'd silently agreed not to mention, blaming it on heightened emotions and an in-the-moment desire for sweeping dramatic actions. So maybe today would be the day - maybe today he would gather up the courage to tell her that he thought she was the nicest, funniest, most interesting girl he'd ever met.

"Neil, I've found it. There is no way we cannot take this class." Well, there went that train of thought. Her voice catapulted him right back into reality, but with her sitting so close to him that he could smell her hair (coconut and strawberries, for the record), he didn't mind. She was pointing at a class towards the bottom of the list:

"Can I Fry That?" Neil raised his eyebrows. "Sounds...interesting."

Vicki smiled and if Neil had been one for poetry, he might have compared it to the sun illuminating the darkened valleys of his soul, or something equally pathetic. "It's got everything I want in a class – cooking and rhetorical questions. Oh, it'll be fun. You'll take it too, won't you?"

There was no point in delaying an answer. He'd cross mountainous terrain, old rickety bridges over foggy gorges, burning coals – if Vicki wanted him to, he'd not even hesitate.

This year was going to be the best one yet, even if that meant sitting in a class debating the mechanics of frying a set of car keys. If a bit of oil in a saucepan could spark something up with Vicki, then nothing else mattered.


End file.
